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On a recent Friday night at the new Beluga Bar by Caviarteria in Tribeca, leggy Eastern European girls sip Champagne and nibble caviar-topped blinis in a booth perched beneath a chandelier. Across the room, boisterous Australian boys contemplate a flirtatious approach. All the while, a piano player tickles the ivories, providing a smooth jazz soundtrack.

Caviarteria owner Walter Drobenko.Photo: Gabi Porter

The bar’s owner, Walter Drobenko, a lawyer and a debonair man of 52, presides over it all, passing out nibbles. It’s an exceedingly pleasant, if extravagant, scene, but the story behind the business is tragic.

The original Caviarteria was started by Louis Sobol in 1952 as a Midtown retail and mail-order outlet for fine fish eggs. The business grew to include nine stores throughout New York City and New Jersey.

When Sobol died in 1992 at the age of 72, his wife, Ruth, and sons, Eric and Bruce, took over the business. Eric began expanding aggressively with his then-wife, Brenda Black Sobol, at his side. Caviarteria opened locations in Las Vegas and Florida, as well as the Soho Grand Hotel.

In the mid-’90s, Drobenko was hired as a lawyer for the company.

A selection of caviar on blinis at Caviarteria.Photo: Gabi Porter

“I liked caviar and I introduced myself as an attorney,” says Drobenko, born in Ukraine and raised on the Lower East Side, where his family owned a restaurant. “From the age of 5, I was peeling potatoes in my mother’s restaurant,” he says.

Brenda and Eric separated in 1997, but, according to Brenda, she continued to be involved in the company. The caviar business grew more complicated as a number of countries took steps to protect beluga and sturgeon with stricter import regulations. Some of Caviarteria’s suppliers were charged with smuggling.

Although the Sobols faced no criminal charges, they weren’t immune to the government crackdown. Caviarteria alleged that hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of caviar had been spoiled during inspections, and they unsuccessfully tried to sue the US Fish and Wildlife Service for millions in damages.

The scene at the bar at Caviarteria.Photo: Gabi Porter

Things continued to dissolve. Brenda and Eric filed for divorce, and the company struggled financially. In April 2001, Eric, 39, was found dead in a Pennsylvania parking lot. The coroner reported that he’d shot himself in the head and had traces of heroin in his system.

While some, including Brenda, speculated the suicide was motivated by money problems — tax returns from fiscal 2001 would show a $2 million loss — Drobenko says he thought not, though he declines to speculate on other motives.

Bruce closed a number of stores to keep the business afloat, and he and Brenda — whose divorce was never finalized — battled in court over the estate and the company. Bruce alleged Brenda had been unfaithful to his brother. Her lawyers alleged that Bruce had destroyed his brother’s suicide note, which can be considered a will in Pennsylvania.

A selection of caviar at Caviarteria.Photo: Gabi Porter

Legal proceedings went on until tragedy struck again: In July of 2003, Bruce was found dead in his Upper East Side apartment — a bag around his head, a bottle of prescription pills on the nightstand.

“Bruce was a bit of an odd duck,” one acquaintance told The Post at the time. “He was quiet, but pretty tightly wound.”

Bruce’s widow, Lydia Wagner, says she didn’t want to be involved with the business. “It was obviously a very sad time. I just focused on raising our daughter,” she tells The Post, though there was some legal discord with Drobenko over the business, which she declines to discuss.

She says she hasn’t spoken to Drobenko in years and hadn’t heard about the new bar.

“I’m surprised,” she says, but “he did always like the product.”

Brenda couldn’t be reached for comment.

Katie Lumeva and Kristina Dro at the bar at Caviarteria.Photo: Gabi Porter

Drobenko took over the Caviarteria name in 2006. By that point, the company was just a mail-order outfit, but he says customers kept asking, “When are you going to open up a caviar bar?”

The crash in 2008 put that idea on hold, until now. Beluga Bar opened its doors in March — selling Cristal for $495 and 1-ounce servings of Kaluga Prime Caviar for $395.

But customers don’t need to empty their wallets. There’s a $25 caviar sampler that includes a glass of Champagne and three mini-blinis topped with domestic fish eggs. For the uninitiated, Drobenko is intent on showing that caviar is not overly salty or fishy.

“You’re going to like it after you try it,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. “It was a business worth saving.”